2013 Valenship: A Collection
by CSIGurlie07
Summary: In honor of this year's Valenship celebration being held over on the GateWorld forum, I have put together a collection of ficlets whose sole purpose is to give homage to the love that is Sam/Jack. The genres run the gamut of angst, fluff, and gutter (nothing explicit), with some whump sprinkled in. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Winter in Washington D.C. permeated every bone, every muscle in Jack O'Neill's body. More snow could be found in Colorado, and he used to think Minnesota was even worse, but here the frozen air could cut through him until it was all he could think about. As of yesterday, the city had seen its first snowfall of the season, and the blanket of white extended to his little corner of Northern Virginian suburbia.

Jack counted his lucky stars that it was the weekend. He could stay at home and shovel out his walkways instead of trying to battle his way through the panic of East Coast drivers in a snowstorm. Jeez. One would think none of them had seen snow before. But in the large scheme of things, being home was a bitter blessing.

In Colorado, a few years ago, he might have gone inside after he was done shoveling. He would stomp his boots off, peel his coat away from his shoulders, and give Sam a surprise hug from behind as she not-so-sneakily heated some cocoa. He'd help her finish, then usher her into the family room to sit in front of the fireplace. They might talk over the crackling of a fresh fire, or they might just sit in silence, but at least they'd be there, together.

So Jack took his time in the snow, prolonging his return to the empty house. Sam was a million lightyears away, commanding the Hammond, and wasn't due back for another two months. Jack understood the distance, and appreciated the duty that urged her to accept the billet. On days like this, though, he felt the separation stung too deeply.

He was so intent on taking his misery out on the densely packed snow that Jack didn't see the flare of bright white light in his home. He didn't see the shadow moving back and forth across the windows, busy with purposeful intent. Jack only turned to go inside when the pale grey light of day began to fade, and his gloom was reflected in the world around him.

With frozen fingers, Jack opened the door and shouldered his way inside. He stomped the snow from his boots and shook off his coat. When he shucked it off, he didn't bother to hang it up proper—it lay in a puddle on the floor, right next to his kicked-off boots. With a miserable sniff, he turned deeper into the house, only to freeze when his eyes locked on a familiar silhouette.

"You're going to pick those up, right?"

Sam flicked on the light with her elbow, revealing a saucy smirk and a steaming mug in each hand. There was no uniform in sight; instead she wore a comfortable sweater and well-worn jeans. In his eyes she was the picture of homey comfort, with her long hair pulled into a lazy braid over her shoulder, and in an instant the bone-numbing cold dissipated.

Jack rocked back on his heels, then swaggered towards his wife. His hand came out of his pocket, reached up with a mind of its own and cupped the soft curve of her cheek. Sam's grin grew to match his, and Jack waited until their noses were almost touching before answering her teasing query.

"Yeah," he murmured huskily. "Later."

Their lips crashed together, and Jack's skin heated with her warmth. He was complete once more, and with her in his arms, there was no more room for the cold.


	2. Chapter 2

When Jack saw Sam for the first time in months, it wasn't exactly the homecoming he'd like to give her. She'd been away on Atlantis for over six months now, knee-deep in a war he only got updates on every month or so. It had gotten a little better since the Carter-McKay bridge was created, but now that was down again, already attacked by the Wraith and exploited as a point of contact between the Pegasus galaxy and Earth.

He hadn't seen her in months, and yet he could only stare at her profile, her back ramrod straight where she sat across from him. The briefing room table stood between them, and only the sound of Landry's measured voice kept Jack in his seat.

They are ostensibly working to design a defense strategy, balance the war against the Lucien Alliance with the war against the Wraith. Some figured with the Wraith a galaxy away, Homeworld Security ought to divert more resources away from the Pegasus Expedition and into the battle against the Alliance. Sam argued, eloquently, that if and when the Wraith showed up in the Milky Way, it would be too late to mount a defense. If Atlantis fell, so would Earth, eventually.

Jack knew that she too felt a responsibility to the Pegasus Galaxy, and was compelled to battle the enemy the original expedition had unwittingly awakened. But the points she hit today were all practical and devoid of the compassion she used to lead her people. Before long even her staunchest of opposition were softening, some even nodding in agreement.

The meeting concluded with an assurance it would continue in a few hours. For a brief, fleeting moment Jack thought he might have a moment alone with his wife, but before he could get a word in edgewise she was surrounded by diplomats. She suffered them with grace, but her eyes betrayed her. They strayed repeatedly to Jack, a tiny smile curling her lips. In her gaze he read her desire, sensed the mischief that leaked out around her crisply ironed edges.

Jack smiled, allowing himself to be absorbed into a conversation with two of the Joint Chiefs and General Landry. Like Sam, his attention strayed frequently. His smirk lingered, and deepened when he caught the flutter of her eyelashes, a wink meant only for him.

"So, Jack, what do you think about creating a permanent off-world base here in the Milky Way?" Landry spoke up. "There's a moon that our scientists say may be suitable."

Jack gave Sam one last grin before shifting his focus back to the conversation. His brows lifted. "I don't suppose that by 'scientists' you mean Dr. Rush?" Landry could only duck his chin with a smile, confessing without a word. Jack shook his head. "I'm telling you, that guy is all kinds of wacko. Brilliant, sure, but absolutely, 100 percent nutso…"

So maybe he was exaggerating. But who was he kidding? There was only one kind of brilliant he could truly tolerate, and she was on the far side of the room, waiting. "And you know, Hank, I'd love to discuss this further, but I have another pressing engagement."

Jack nodded to the Joint Chiefs, and took his leave. Sam barely managed to utter her own farewells before he had her by the hand, tugging her behind him as he navigated the stairs he knew by heart. She willingly followed, their steps clanging discordantly against the grated steps. Her palm was warm in his, her smile loud despite her silence. It was good to be home.


	3. Chapter 3

For centuries Atlantis had stood alone, empty and devoid of life. When these foreign guests, strange and yet so reminiscent of her former residents, had first stepped through her Stargate, Atlantis had grudgingly given up her secrets; just enough to keep them alive. As much as she resented these imposters who laid claim to her legacy, she had been lonely for far too long. But there was never any doubt who was in charge. These were her walls, her halls, her rooms. She quietly watched, listening, observing these young creatures as they began to carve their place in the Pegasus galaxy.

The strangers surprised her. They were kind, compassionate. They struggled, amongst themselves at times, and always against the many enemies they faced. Yet these people remained pure of heart, and as time passed Atlantis accepted them into her heart.

She protected them, gave them hope when they believed all to be lost. But it was not without loss; their commander, kind and yet ruthless when it came to protecting her own, was lost. The loyalty Doctor Weir had garnered was palpable, and it lingered long after she vanished. When a new leader came to take her place, the whole city anticipated conflict, a coup between power mongers. But none came.

Colonel Carter was an unassuming leader. She arrived keenly aware of the situation she was walking into, knew exactly what she would face. The woman demanded nothing. Slowly, through firm, yet gentle guidance, she earned the respect and loyalty of her people in her own right. She was very like Dr. Weir, but the two women were not the same. This Carter never pretended to be. She led in her own way, and her people followed, warily at first, and then willingly, trustingly.

For a while, all seemed at peace. But it couldn't last. Colonel Carter went through the gate, and she did not return. In her place came a small man, rigid and blusterous. He had been in the city before, and Atlantis acutely remembered his fear in the shadow of the Wraith cruisers that had hovered above the planet. His panic would have doomed them all; but for Carter's adamant countermands, they would have been destroyed.

The people who called Atlantis home did not trust him, and neither did the city herself. She shared in the negative regard they afforded their newest commander, embittered by the manner in which the Colonel had been dismissed.

Richard Woolsey believed Atlantis to be a simple machine, non-sentient and unfeeling. Atlantis was only too willing to perpetuate that belief. She helped him along his misconceptions; with automated operations, doors closed on him unexpectedly, lights that turned off when he was too long immobile—and would only resume their brilliance when he left the room.

When he addressed the malfunctions to the technicians under his newly tendered command, they assured him they would look into it, but as soon as he went on his way they merely smiled knowingly. They understood her, respectfully, and sensed the intent behind the reported glitches. Once they ran their basic diagnostics, and found nothing amiss, they let her be.

It could be that this Woolsey would prove himself yet; as both a man and leader. But for now, Atlantis would entertain herself by keeping the man on his toes.

Jack wanted Sam home. But he hadn't wanted it like this. His fingers tenderly passed over her palm, tracing lightly over the four crescent bruises embedded under her skin. Left there by fingernails of a tightly clenched fist, it was the only lasting indication that she was bothered by her abrupt dismissal from command.

Glancing down at the top of her blonde head, remorse cloyed at him. She was sleeping now, curled up against him with her head pillowed on his shoulder. It was hard to believe that merely an hour ago she had been crying. Sam was the least overly-emotional woman Jack had ever met, but the overwhelming frustration and sense of failure had been too much. She'd made it home, and dumped her duffel inside the front door. He'd been waiting on the couch, and as soon as her eyes locked on him her face had crumpled, tears pouring from her in an anguished torrent.

His reaction had been immediate. The instinct to comfort had overwhelmed all conscious thought, and the next thing he knew she'd been in his arm, clinging to him for dear life.

That was when his guilt had reared its ugly head. He knew the IOA's decision; he hadn't agreed with it, but he couldn't deny he was glad she was home. It was this happiness that weighed on him as she sobbed.

When her anguish had relented, and she could speak once more, they'd eschewed the indoors in favor of moving to the roof. Under the open sky, by light of the stars the last of her sobs had calmed. Together, they'd wrapped up under a blanket and lay staring at the pinpricks of light overhead.

With Sam now sleeping, exhausted by the day's events, Jack had time to think. While on SG-1, he had found more peace off world than he did here in Colorado. It was as if those night skies felt more like home than Earth did. He didn't consider it much then, but it was only when he'd left SG-1, left the SGC altogether that Earth had begun to feel like home again. He didn't make the connection until Sam went to Atlantis and took that sense of belonging with her.

Once she left Jack was an alien on his own planet once more. The stars turned cold and lifeless, to the point he could barely stand to look at them. It was then that he realized. It wasn't the stars that felt like home. It wasn't the planet he planted his boots on. It was her. It always had been. Those SG-1 years had seen Captain then Major Carter looking at those stars right alongside him. Those short months she had been in Nevada, and he in DC, they'd met somewhere in the middle and he couldn't have been happier.

Now she was with him again. Jack knew it was only temporary: the Hammond was nearing completion and as soon as it was mission ready Sam would be on it. But for now it was only she and him; the rest could wait. For now, so long as Sam was here, he would simply cherish the warmth she provided.

For now, with Sam beside him once more, he was home.


	4. Chapter 4

Balls of crumpled wrapping paper peppered the carpet, forcing Jack to tiptoe a dance around them as he made his way to the living room. The party had been a success, even though the house looked like a tornado had hit. Plates and cups were littered across the place, and their carpet was now graced with a splotch of Hawaiian Punch-pink. Balloons sagged, exhausted, and Jack felt their pain. His bones ached.

He settled into his recliner with a silent sigh, careful not to wake the bodies asleep on the couch. Sam lay dead to the world, hair disheveled and harried with a smear of icing painted across one cheek. The twins were zonked out on top of her; Jake sprawled over her chest, one leg thrown across the shoulders of his sister. Abby's thumb was fist-deep in her mouth, one arm latched around her mother's thigh.

Even in her sleep, Sam was in mommy mode. One arm hugged Jake around the middle; her free hand cupped Abby's downy head, gently protecting the girl from a hapless roll off the narrow sofa. She was going to be sore when she woke up later, and the kids were going to be cranky, but Jack made no move to wake any of them. They were a beautiful sight, a sight that could disappear in the space of a moment. In less time than it took to blink, it could vanish. It already had, once. So Jack simply sat back and observed, committing the scene to memory, internalizing every last detail.

It had been a long birthday; later, Sam might even compare it to the ordeal of childbirth. But it was worth it to have their house full of laughter. He couldn't wait to do it all again next year.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam slammed the car door closed and locked it, making her way up the drive. She smiled. The day around her was spring in full bloom: the sun was bright, the world green and full of life. Her carefully tended garden was full of color around the edge of the front porch. For the first time in her life, the house was her home, no longer simply a way station between her hours spent at work. A familiar sense of wonder swelled lightly within her, amazed that her life could be so transformed by happiness.

As she entered the house, however, the source of that overwhelming happiness stood waiting, features turned down in an unhappy scowl. Sam blinked, then took the time to close and lock the door behind her. Setting her purse on the small table against the wall, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"What's the matter?" she hedged. With the chaos of the past few weeks, and her recent mission to the Pegasus Galaxy in search of the Ark, she hadn't really had a chance to have a real conversation with Jack. They'd spoken only long enough for her to reassure him that she was uninjured, and to confirm that the reports of the Priors' conversion were true. They'd left the rest until they both could take some downtime and spend it together… which apparently started now.

"Where've you been?"

Sam blinked. Jack wasn't usually one to monitor her movements, or particularly care what she did when she wasn't with him. However, Sam sensed there was more to the question than what he asked, so she answered without prejudice. "I was visiting Cam in the infirmary. Thought I'd check in before I went on leave."

Shaking her hand through her hair, Sam turned to face him head on, even going so far as to close the distance by taking a few steps in his direction. Jack responded by looking away uncomfortably, focusing on the closest wall than on her. Sam stopped where she was. There was definitely something up.

"I see you've been busy in the kitchen," he mentioned lightly, studying the white trim that laterally bisected the wall. His finger trailed the edge of it, feigning nonchalance. Sam's eyebrows crept upward, her lips settling into a pleased line.

She smoothed her features before he glanced up at her, opting to deliver an expectant, if somewhat blank expression. "I made some macaroons for Cam." She paused, watching him carefully. "A get-well gift."

"Ah," Jack uttered. He shifted in place, waiting for her continue. Sam let the bait dangle untouched. Just before he passed from uncomfortable to squirming, he filled the silence himself. "So you made cookies?"

"I made macaroons," she clarified, leaving the stand-off to start walking towards the kitchen. The mess she'd left behind waited for her, and as Jack trailed along behind, she began the task of setting the mixing bowls, measuring cups, and baking sheets to sit under the faucet while she set out the drain rack.

Jack handed her the last pan as he leaned back against the counter. Sam knew he'd help her dry, as was their usual routine, but for now he occupied himself by playing with the corner of the dishtowel. "You never made me cookies when I was in the infirmary," he pointed out.

Sam rolled her eyes. "I was just returning a favor," she appeased. "Hand me the Dawn, will you?" He obliged readily. Squeezing a line of soap across her sponge, Sam tried not to smile. "And the last time you hurt yourself, I did more than make macaroons for you."

"Yeah…" Neither of them would be forgetting last autumn, when Jack had run into a squirrel while clearing out the gutters. The scars had long-faded, but Jack still claimed to suffer nightmares. Sam had gotten creative in ways to distract him. The moment of reflection ended abruptly when Jack crossed his arms with a pout. "But did you have to give him _all _the cookies?"

"I will never, ever keep macaroons in this house," Sam declared. She'd gotten nauseated just by making them. There was just something about them that turned her off, and when they started baking, the smell alone almost… Ugh. "Now stop whining and start drying."

Jack hesitated, but in the end accepted the impasse by lifting the freshly scrubbed ¼-cup and wiping at it with the towel. His movements lacked urgency, and by the time he moved to put it away in the cupboard next to the fridge, a small pile had accumulated on the rack behind him.

Sam heard the cupboard open, and diligently kept scraping at the toasted crumbs clinging to the baking sheet in her hands, smiling openly now that her back was turned. Almost immediately, she heard him pause, falling silent for the briefest of moment before, "Score!"

The measuring cup was abandoned to the counter with a clink, and the familiar rattle of cookies in Tupperware sounded victoriously. Sam rinsed her hands in anticipation, and had just patted them dry when Jack's hands spun her around by the hips, kissing her soundly. Sam returned it with a grin, giggling against his lips before he pulled away with a beaming smile.

"You're the best," he declared, waving the bucket of chocolate chip cookies triumphantly.

Sam shrugged. "Standard operating procedure," she stated, as if there had been no ulterior motive behind them at all. "Had to get the smell out somehow…"

She wouldn't mention the fact that she'd hid them in a cupboard he rarely ventured into, eschewing all the normal places for storing goodies. Using the breadbox or microwave would have ruined the fun—and Jack made it far too easy to pull his chain.

Jack's fingers pulled at the lid, eager to dive in, but Sam gently removed the container from his grasp.

"Dishes first. Then dessert." The dishes were finished in record time, and before long Sam was reaching into the fridge to get the milk. Before she could curl her fingers around the carton, however, her eyes caught on something else entirely. Jack eagerly retrieved the cookies, but before he could pry open the bin, Sam straightened, placing her find on the island counter.

"Actually…" she began, canting her head ever so slightly. Jack, eyes zeroed in on the cookies within his reach, sighed the sigh of a martyr, and let his shoulders fall dramatically. Sam waited until he looked up at her, then wiggled the brand new can of whipped cream at him.

She smiled enticingly. "I had another dessert in mind." Her grin turned devilish when her husband's gazed bounced between her and the cookies, and giggled when the Tupperware smacked against the counter, all but forgotten.

Long arms wrapped around her, one hand cupping her neck to pull her closer. His lips captured hers, first brisk, then softening into something far more seductive. His fingers tangled themselves in her hair, and not for the first time Sam was glad she'd finally let it grow out. Sam's thumb brushed the edge of his jaw, sending tingled down her arm against the prickle of his grizzled five-o-clock shadow.

When they came up for air, they remained locked in each other's arms. "Cookies can wait," Jack grunted, his breath vibrating against her lips. Sam giggled again. "Much better than macaroons."


	6. Chapter 6

Jack stared dauntlessly into the heart of the abyss. He'd always thought of jungles as voracious beasts, and this one was no different. Its bright yet shadowy depths consumed the sound of a dozen shouting voices, all searching for Major Carter. Though it was the Stargate that had stranded her here five weeks ago, it was the jungle that had swallowed her.

She'd spent some time by the Gate, as evidenced by the half-gutted DHD with its innards trailing to the damp earth, but it was apparent she had long abandoned it. Now SG-1 stepped into the hungry maw of the jungle once more, together with Colonel Reynolds whose team comprised the second half of their search and rescue party.

The trail they followed was strong, deliberately marked by Carter with stacks of stone and branches, and arrows pointing them in the direction she'd gone. But then the markers came fewer and farther between, before they vanished completely. With a brisk hand signal Reynolds took his team and spread out to the east; Jack nodded for Daniel and Teal'c to head west.

He didn't know how many hours they searched, or how many miles they traveled. All he knew was when he spotted the irregular pattern of forest-green BDUs against the backdrop of the jungle, his heart nearly thudded out of his chest. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, speeding him towards the blouse draped over a mass of tangled, arching roots with a shout to alert the others.

"Over here!"

Hot air stuck to his skin, pouring into his lungs. His breaths came in heavy rasps, burning. He snatched the blouse to him without hesitation—it was tacky to the touch, the fibers swollen from too many days' exposure in the heavy humidity.

"Carter!" His shout was unanswered, but as he moved he saw the open space beneath the bed of roots; a shelter, perhaps large enough for one person. "Carter!"

The narrow beam of his flashlight revealed the limp form of his Major, unresponsive. Her smudged skin was pale beneath the ruddy remnants of old sunburn, and one cheek sported a dirty scrape. But most concerning was the crude bandage strapped across her thigh, and the stench of human rot that billowed up to greet him.

He looked up to Danny and Teal'c who stood sweaty and rigid in the oppressive heat. Jack passed off his weapon, and quickly located the gap Sam must have used to gain access to the hideaway. Only his head would fit; it was barely large enough for Carter, let along anyone else. Biting back a curse, he looked to Daniel. "Get Reynolds over here with the med team," he ordered.

For a moment, the archaeologist's mouth opened and closed like a fish, but small miracle of miracles, he didn't protest, or ask any questions. He turned away, taking the moment to pull himself together as he relayed their position to SG-3. Jack turned back to the base of the tree, and their prize within it. There would only be one way to do this.

Grasping the boot of her good leg, Jack swiftly pulled Carter through the gap and out into the open. His gut clenched at the sound of the cry that accompanied the abuse, but the consequent fluttering of her eyes came as a relief.

"Carter?" Jack moved to her head, and sharply patted her cheek. "Carter!"

Teal'c presented him with a canteen of fresh water, and without a word Jack unscrewed the top and tipped it to her lips. For moment, there was nothing, and then, suddenly, she sputtered, eyes flaring.

"Drink, Major," he issued firmly. "That's an order." He watched the alarm flicker across her features, followed quickly by recognition and heartfelt relief. She blinked lethargically, then obediently sipped the water he offered.

She finished with a groan, and when her head tipped back Jack thought for sure she'd drifted away again. But then bloodshot eyes opened and focused blearily on him. "Sir," she croaked. She cleared her throat ineffectually.

"Hi." There were several other things he could have said—wanted to say—but 'hi' was safe. Neutral. Didn't hint at all at the panic that had haunted him for five weeks.

"What took you so long?"

Jack grinned, then shrugged. "Oh, you know… had to wait for the friendly neighborhood Tok'ra to let us borrow one of their rides." She let out a huff of air; either a laugh, or a grimace of pain. The moment of levity shattered, and gravity pulled Jack back down to Earth. "Major, I need to know your injuries."

Her lids were already slamming, but popped back open again when Jack shook her shoulder. "Ah… uh, just…" She inhaled sharply. "Just my leg, it's… not good, sir."

Yeah. He'd gathered that. The stink of infection issued distinctly from the dirty bandage, which he could now see was crusted and discolored. "Was it a branch? Rock?"

"No, ah…" Her sunburn deepened ever so slightly. "Actually, it was… a boar, I think. Some kind of… alien, wild pig, sir."

Despite himself, Jack felt his eyebrows creeping towards his hairline. "A pig?"

"It had big teeth, sir," she replied diligently, before cringing at another wave of pain. "Tusks… gored me. I tried… didn't have enough supplies… in my pack…"

"Take it easy, Major," Jack softened, patting her arm gently in reassurance. "Don't worry about it. Doc Frasier sent her best med team with us. They're on their way. They'll take good care of you." Her eyes started to slip shut. "I just need you to stay awake for me now, okay Carter?"

Blue eyes fought to stay open. "Yes… sir…"

But for all her efforts, she fell back unconscious before Reynolds showed up with SG-3 and the med team. Turned out they didn't need her to be awake. They slipped an oxygen mask over her nose, and threaded an IV into her hand. Within minutes they had her loaded on a stretcher, and a pair of SG-3 Marines were carting back towards the cargo ship that would take them home.

Jack moved to follow, pausing only just small enough to issue a single request to Colonel Reynolds.

"If you guys see any kind of boar-looking thing… kill it really, really dead, wouldja?"

Reynolds nodded without question, leaving Jack to go with the rest of his team to the ship. SG-3 would bring up the rear, and make sure nothing tried to follow them home. SG-1 hadn't encountered anything on their initial visit, but there would be no more risks today.

Only once the Goa'uld vessel was fully loaded and back in the air did the med team address the bandage secured to Carter's left thigh. They'd given her morphine, and as they began to peel the stained bandage away, Jack was glad for it. The bandage had become soaked through at some point, whether by rain or seepage they would never know, and had become cemented to the edges of the wound. Pus-spotted blood oozed sluggishly from the gaping gash in her thigh, eventually spilling onto the flat bench she was laid out on.

The medics said it wasn't too deep, and the infection wasn't septic—yet. If they got her back to the SGC infirmary soon enough, there wouldn't be any lasting damage. But it wasn't until she was installed in the clean confines of the infirmary that Jack was able to ease the knot of worry in his gut. Frasier said Sam would be all right—so she would be. She'd be on bed rest for a few weeks, and on light duty for weeks beyond that, but she'd make a full recovery.

Teal'c and Daniel joined Jack in his vigil at her bedside. Her rise to consciousness was slow, and peppered with false-starts, but when tired blue eyes finally focused on him, and smiled, he was assured she was on the mend.

"How long?" she asked.

"Five weeks." Five weeks since the wormhole closed on her before she could step through to Earth. Five weeks of Jack not knowing whether she'd been en route when the wormhole disengaged. Five weeks of knowing she was on her own, with limited resources, in an unforgiving environment. Five of wondering whether he would get to her in time.

Sam smiled tiredly, her thin fingers squeezing his. "Thank you," she said. Simple gratitude, meant honestly; a lump climbed in Jack's throat.

He offered her a thin smile. "Always."

She progressed steadily after that, to the point that their three-man vigil was quickly reduced to a part-time schedule. He managed to catch her alone one night, a few days before she was due to be released on her own recognizance. Their conversation was superficial, light and easy. Right before she nodded off to sleep, Jack had only one last thing to say about the entire affair.

"Y'know, next time Carter, I'll give you a Gameboy to keep in your pack."

Eyes half-closed, Carter lifted a sleepy brow. "Hmmm…?" She was barely listening; it was all the opening he needed.

"That way, the next time you get stuck on an alien planet… you won't end up getting boared to death."

Her giggle was well worth the wait.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: This ficlet was not technically part of the Valenship challenge, but was rather a request from a fellow shipper in honor of Valenship. The prompt was a shippier version of the scene where Sam and Jack meet up at the cabin in "2010". This is what came out of it.

* * *

"I'm happy with the way things are. No more saving the world, just a nice pond, with no pesky fish in it… and the single most pressing issue in my life is whether or not to get a dog."

The words came so smoothly, it was hard to believe they came from the man sitting in front of her. He had never been so sedate in her memory; the cadence of his speech had always been lilting, humorous and not a little lofty. But this tone, these words… they came from a stranger.

Sam stared at the him, saw his eyes so pointedly avoiding contact with hers, and anger sparked. Jack O'Neill was judging her; he judged her marriage, her commitment to learning Aschen technology, and her desire now to fix everything. After everything she'd shared with him, even her inability to get pregnant, he sneered. She might have been wrong, but at least she had the guts to admit it—and do something about it.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Sam spat the words at him, disgust climbing in her throat, burning as it went. Indignation burned in the pits of Jack's eyes, and for a moment, Sam could almost see the man he'd been before. Beneath the scruffy, unkempt—uncaring—bear, the legendary Jack O'Neill still lingered.

"What the hell do you think happened?" he fired back, bristling. His finger jabbed sharply at her. "_You_ turned your back on _me_—"

"God, is that really what you think happened? You think that because for once in my career I didn't snap to and trip over myself to fall in line that I _abandoned_ you? That it was some sort of personal attack?!" A very un-ladylike snort told him exactly what she thought about that. "I didn't realize you were _that _insecure—"

Before she could finish, he was there in front of her, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. "You should have trusted me." She always had before. "_You_ should have backed me up."

This was _not_ on her. Not entirely. "You had no proof, Jack. There was nothing to suggest they intended any harm—"

"But I was right!" His finger jabbed again, nearly poking her in the chest.

Sam batted it away forcefully, knocking his arm far to the side. "But we didn't know _then_! You had nothing back then but your damn gut! One man's misgivings weren't enough to sway the decision of the President, not when there was so much to gain!" They glared at each other, neither refusing to back down. "You were right—and you were the only one who suspected anything. But you had nothing to back it up, and your unfounded protest wasn't enough for us to turn our back on the one alliance that could turn the tide in the war against the Goa'uld. You know that."

Something shifted in Jack's gaze, and Sam caught it. She saw it, and her anger instantly tempered into the steely chill of realization.

"You knew that," she repeated, stepping away. "That's why you were so vocal, but did nothing to dig up the proof we needed to believe you. You must have known you wouldn't be taken seriously. So you became the martyr, so you could afford to … You got to resign, come out here to live here in peace. Just so that when you ended up being right, you could just say 'I told you so' and be done with it? And if you were wrong, then no harm, no foul, right? You still get the retirement you always wanted, and Earth gets all the tech it could ever want." She swallowed painfully. "Must've been a win-win for you…"

Tears burned at her eyes, and Sam swiped at them bitterly. For a long time, she'd been Samantha Carter—the brain behind the Stargate Program. At this moment, though, she couldn't have felt more foolish. Jack had used the Aschen to wash his hands of the SGC… of SG-1, of her.

Her anger dissipated in a whoosh, replaced with nothing but the ache of hurt. Sam sat heavily on the firewood stacked so neatly beside the cabin. She'd thought she'd moved on, left this anguish—left him—behind. Joe had helped. He made her happy, respected her. But never did he make her feel like this. Jack might spark the very worst of her emotions these days, but the intensity of them… Only Jack could do this to her, and she was exhausted from it all.

After a moment, Jack sat next to her. His shoulders were slumped, and Sam let herself believe that he was as discouraged as she was. "I was tired," he said. There was no apology in the admission, nothing but acceptance. It was done, and maybe he was even relieved that the truth was finally out. He sighed. "But this wasn't the retirement I wanted."

Sam closed her eyes. It wasn't the retirement she'd envisioned for him either. Back when she was in a position to have those kinds of thoughts, he'd never been alone at this cabin, and it hadn't been a dog that had kept him company. Being here now; it was cruel kick in the chest, wasn't it?

"What happened to us, Sam?" The acid in his voice had vanished, and now Sam almost wished for it back. Angry Jack was something she could battle; Gentle Jack had the power to melt her completely. "We were happy, and then… you were gone."

She thought about getting up, leaving… but in the end, she surrendered. "It didn't happen overnight," she countered. "Nothing does. But, one day I woke up and realized… you weren't the man I'd fallen in love with, anymore." She didn't turn her head to look at him. She didn't need to. "You were so quick to write us off, wipe your hands of us… It was like I didn't even know you anymore."

His hurt radiated from him in waves, though his voice, when he spoke, was steady. "It wasn't just me."

"No," she agreed. "I know that."

She pulled her hands to her lap and let them rest there, studying her fingers. Her nails and cuticles were carefully trimmed; the grubby hygiene that had passed in the field offworld had no place in the Aschen's new society. Now, somehow, they were more ugly than when they'd been dirty and torn.

"Maybe we would have been able to work through it… But when that day came, and I realized I was with a stranger—I didn't want to try."

She'd have rather cut ties and preserve her memories of good times with Jack, than take the gamble and lose any sense of fondness for him at all. And that's what she'd done. Maybe it was selfish of her; maybe she'd been wrong to let him go. But it was over.

For long minutes they sat there in quiet. Slowly, the silence following their heated argument gave way to the sound of birds singing in the forest. Peace determinedly restored itself in the serenity of the idyllic scene, and it eased the burden on Sam's shoulders. For years, she'd wanted the chance to have some kind of resolution with Jack. Not forgiveness, not even understanding. She'd simply wanted him to know. And now he did.

It had taken too long for them to grow up, it seemed. It had all came too late.

"You're going to go through with this with or without me, aren't you?" he asked finally.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"And if you succeed, we all, what? Disappear?" His head turned, and she felt his eyes on her. "It all gets rewritten?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. Some people theorized that an event like the one they were trying to engineer would simply be the spark that fueled an alternate reality. But it had never been done before; they wouldn't know for sure until they did it. "Time travel gives me a headache."

"Well, we wouldn't want that." Jack's drawl was light, and for a moment, he was almost like the man she remembered. There was another pause, and then, "Y'know, if this all gets unwritten when you go through with your plan… I don't want our last words in this world to be a screaming match."

Against the warning voice in her head, Sam huffed a soft laugh. When Jack reached over, she let him entwine his fingers with hers. Their palms pressed together, and she squeezed it gently.

"You're my biggest regret," he uttered softly.

Finally, Sam looked at him, her brow creeping upwards. "Gee, thanks."

His eyes rolled, but then his features grew serious once more. "I shouldn't have let the regs stand between us so long. I should have retired sooner, transferred to another team… anything. You were worth it. I only wish I'd been man enough to do it."

"Jack…"

"I shouldn't have let you go."

Darkness pulled at the corners of her eyes. For almost a decade, a tiny ball of resentment had sat in her heart. It had been such a constant companion that she hadn't noticed it until this moment, when it unraveled into nothing. On some level, she'd wished he'd come after her. He hadn't.

Sam sighed, and the last of her energy slipped away with her breath. Her fingers tightened over his hand, and let her head rest on his shoulder. He smelled of sunshine and pine, and the musky scent of the lake. "I loved you, Jack." A part of her perhaps always would.

"Faxon makes you happy." It wasn't so much a question as a statement, and it didn't disrupt the quiet they it would have if he'd mentioned the same while they were still angry. She answered.

"Yes. He does." She squeezed his hand, until he turned and met her gaze. "So did you."

They didn't say anything else. When the sun began to fade, Sam got to her feet. Jack released her, his fingers slipping from her grasp like so much ether. Only their lingering warmth assured her that it had truly happened—she wasn't dreaming.

Without a word, she began to walk back towards her car. Halfway there, just before she turned the corner of the cabin, she turned back. His eyes were watching her, and she met his gaze with a serious stare. "What would you name it?"

Jack blinked. "What?"

"The dog. What would you name it?"

Salt-and-peppered eyebrows lifted in amusement. His lips almost curled upwards, but not quite. "Danny-boy, probably." He shrugged.

Sam grinned. "Daniel would never forgive you."

"You got a better name?"

She considered it for a moment, and in an instant the answer hit. "I've always liked Homer."

A cricket chirped absurdly close, as though mocking her as Jack simply absorbed the response, not making a sound of his own. Then he smiled, and nodded.

"Take care, Sam."

Regret washed over her, but in an instant it was gone, swallowed by the contentment in her soul. If her plan worked, then somewhere, somehow she and Jack might have another chance. If not in this reality, then another one. She could only hope they'd get it right.

"Good bye, Jack."


End file.
